Page 22 of Dark Rebel’s Reckoning (The Children Of The Gods #93)

22

MAX

M ax waited until the women were inside the elevator before heading to the cargo area of the bus. Part of him wanted to follow, to stay close to Kyra, but he had a job to do.

The Doomer wasn't going to process himself.

The cargo bay door opened with a hydraulic hiss, revealing the black body bag containing the self-proclaimed doctor. Max wrinkled his nose—the idea of what lay inside repulsed him.

"Want a hand with that?" Yamanu asked, peeking from the bus window.

He and Mey and the Kra-ell were returning to the village, and Syssi would go home with Kian. Max was staying, even though he didn't know what Onegus was planning for him yet. The chief might want him to resume his duties in the dungeon and relieve Alfie, who had taken over from him, or he might have something else in mind.

Max was planning on staying, and not just because he wasn't leaving the Doomer's interrogation to anyone else.

He wanted to stay close to Kyra.

Not that he had any plans of turning on the charm and seducing her right away. Even he wasn't that obtuse. For now, he would only offer her friendship while letting her know he was available for more if she was interested.

"I've got it," he told Yamanu. "Go back to your mate. I'm staying in the keep anyway."

Yamanu pursed his lips. "Did Onegus say anything about wanting you back in charge?"

Max shrugged. "Haven't heard anything yet. I'm going to request to stay here for now." He reached for the body bag. "I want to interrogate this scumbag personally."

"As you wish." Yamanu grinned before his head disappeared from the window.

Max reached for the bag, intending to sling the body over his shoulder, but the Doomer was stiff as a board and impossible to maneuver. Maybe he should have accepted Yamanu's help after all.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered.

"Let me give you a hand." A deep, heavily accented voice spoke from behind him.

Anton motioned at the bus. "Okidu will wait until I'm back. I'll help you carry this piece of shit to the dungeon."

"Thanks." Max gestured to the opposite end of the bag. "Grab that side."

Together, they lifted the awkward burden and carried it through the parking garage toward the elevator. The weight wasn't an issue, but the rigid body made maneuvering difficult.

"I didn't know that bodies in stasis got this stiff," Anton said.

"Me neither," Max admitted as they exited on the dungeon level. "Haven't dealt with many of them."

Anton arched a brow. "Really? How did all those Doomers get into your catacombs, then? Walk in by themselves?"

Max chuckled. "Good question. I just didn't get lucky enough to get a body in."

"First time for everything," Anton said. "Right?"

"I guess. And as firsts go, I want you to know that it was a pleasure fighting by your side."

The hybrid grinned. "Same here. I'll fight by your side anytime."

"Oh, wow." Alfie walked toward them. "All that bro love makes me emotional." He looked at the body bag. "Fresh meat?"

"One Doomer, not so fresh and in stasis," Max said. "Do you have a cell ready for him?"

Alfie nodded. "Follow me."

They trudged down the corridor lined with heavy metal doors. Each one concealed a prisoner—some human, some immortal, all dangerous in their own way. The keep had become the clan's de facto prison since they'd discovered the pedophilia ring run by the Brotherhood. Kian had insisted on keeping those monsters secure until they'd extracted every bit of useful intelligence out of them, and then they would be used for Ell-rom to test his powers on.

The sooner he killed all of them, the better. The Guardians manning the dungeon should be going on rescue missions instead of keeping an eye on these soulless creatures.

Alfie stopped at a cell near the end, aimed his phone at the scanner, and the door swung open. "This is the less secure interrogation cell. We still have the Doomer vermin in the other one."

"I know," Max said as he walked in with the body and Anton. "I ran this place. Remember?"

"Right." Alfie rubbed the back of his neck. "You can have the post back today if you want. I hate it down here. Not because I hate the dungeon but because of the occupants we have right now. This is the lowest of the low. The most evil of them all."

After Max and Anton had deposited their burden on the cot, the hybrid briskly rubbed his hands together as if trying to scrub away whatever contamination had clung to him from the body bag. "Good luck with the interrogation," he said, stepping back.

Alfie and Max followed Anton out of the cell, locking the door behind them.

"Got a name for me to input in the system?" Alfie asked.

Max shook his head. "This monster is known as 'the Doctor.' At least, that's what everyone at the compound called him. We found no ID on him."

"The Doctor it is, then." Alfie made a note on his tablet. "I heard that you brought back four potential Dormants?"

The excitement in Alfie's voice made Max uncomfortable. "Cool your jets," he said. "They're barely more than children. The oldest is nineteen."

Alfie shrugged. "Nineteen is old enough. Any of them pretty?"

Max stared at him, taken aback by the callousness of the question. The truth was, he honestly hadn't noticed. He'd been so fixated on Kyra and distracted by Fenella's presence that he'd barely paid attention to the girls.

"They're traumatized young women, not dating prospects," he said. "The poor things were cared for by Jade, Drova, and the other female warriors—not exactly the motherly or caring types. I didn't spend time assessing their appearance other than to scan for injuries."

Alfie raised his hands in surrender. "I was just curious. Don't be so touchy. We all deal with rescued trafficking victims, so you don't need to remind me that they are vulnerable right now. It's just that potential Dormants are a big deal."

"I know." Max let out a breath. "I'm just dirty, tired, and cranky."

Alfie nodded in understanding. "How did it go? I know that everyone came back in one piece, but I heard that Yamanu and Drova got hit."

"They did. Yamanu is as good as new, but Drova will take a while to heal. The Kra-ell are the best fighters I've ever seen, but they are more vulnerable to physical harm than we are."

Alfie leaned against the desk in the cell that had been turned into their command office. "How did the kid do other than get injured?"

"She was great. The girl's got a bright future on the force." He leaned against the wall, suddenly aware of how exhausted he was. "All the Kra-ell were incredible. They were like a well-oiled killing machine. You should have seen them tear through the Doomers. Unstoppable, and that includes the females. They are scary."

"Wish I could have been there," Alfie said. "Maybe next time."

"Yeah. They are good to have around when things get tough." Max pushed off from the wall. "I'm dying for a shower and clean clothes. I'm heading upstairs to the apartment."

"Need anything else before you head up?"

Max shook his head. "I'm good. Thanks for the help."

As he walked back to the elevator, he suddenly felt all the exhaustion from the past few days settling over him. He hadn't gotten any sleep on the plane, and he could smell himself, which was gross.

When he got upstairs, the living room of the Guardians' apartment was thankfully empty, and his room was exactly as he'd left it. His bed was made, and everything was in its place.

Max liked his space clean and well organized.

Stripping off his filthy clothing, he dropped it into the hamper to wash later and turned on the water in the shower.

As the water heated, steam gradually filling the enclosure, Max's thoughts drifted to Kyra. The moment he'd placed the pendant in her hands, the pure joy that had transformed her face—he would fight a dozen more battles just to see that again.

He stepped under the spray, letting the scalding water wash away the reminders of the battle. If only emotional baggage could be so easily cleansed. Kyra would have her own demons to face and memories to process. He would need to be patient and resist his natural aggressiveness.

Max wasn't a patient guy, and women usually liked his no-nonsense, direct approach sweetened with a bit of charm. But Kyra wasn't like the women he usually went for. She needed time and space to heal, to reconnect with her daughter, and to find her footing in her new reality.

He would be there, offering friendship and support, making his interest clear but without pressure. And if—when—she was ready for more, he'd be there to fulfill her wishes.

Once there was nothing more to scrub, he turned the water off and rubbed a towel over his wet body. Dropping it in the laundry hamper, he returned naked to the bedroom and pulled fresh clothes from the dresser—simple jeans and a black T-shirt, comfortable but presentable enough for a visit to the penthouse.